COUNTRY  LIFE  IN  THE  POETRY  OF  JOHN  CLARE 

BY 

MILDRED  M.  COEN 


THESIS 


FOR  THE 

DEGREE  OF  BACHELOR  OF  ARTS 


IN 


ENGLISH 


COLLEGE  OF  LIBERAL  ARTS  AND  SCIENCES 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


1922 


* 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


^ (XSV^LA-MS^- ^ 


2-  3 


.I9^.?7T 


THIS  IS  TO  CERTIFY  THAT  THE  THESIS  PREPARED  UNDER  MY  SUPERVISION  BY 
ENTITLED  1 A*r  fj/.. 


IS  APPROVED  BY  ME  AS  FULFILLING  THIS  PART  OF  THE  REQUIREMENTS  FOR  THE 

J S /A 


DEGREE  OF. 


HEAD  OF  DEPARTMENT  OF. 


500254 


I '» 


Table  of  Contents 

page 

1.  Part  1 Economic  Conditions  in  the  Time  of  John  Clare  1 

2.  Part  11  The  Life  of  John  Clare  7 

3.  Part  111  Country  Life  in  the  Poetry  of  John  Clare  14 

4.  Bibliography  25 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/countrylifeinpoeOOcoen 


-1- 

PART  1 

Economic  Conditions  in  the 
Time  of  Clare 

About  forty  years  before  the  birth  of  the  Poet  Clare, 

( 1793  ) there  began  in  England  a land  revolution  which  by 
the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  pauperized  a great  part 
of  the  rural  population.  Up  until  1750  fully  half  of  the 
land  of  England  was  worked  in  ft  common  " , or  in  accordance 
with  what  was  known  as  the  open  field  system.  This  open 
field  system  means  that  there  were  special  fields  set  aside 
for  plow  land.  These  fields  were  dividedAvery  small  strips 
which  were  alternately  cultivated  and  left  unplowed.  Besides 
this  plow  land,  there  was  a definite  <aure a of  grazing  land, 
known  as  the  commons.  *Hth  the  coming  of  enclosures  this 
open  field  system  was  abolished.  ( By  the  term  1 enclosure  ’ 
is  meant  that  all  the  strips  of  any  one  man  scattered 
throughout  the  holdings  of  the  village  were  given  to  him 
in  equivalent  in  a singl e , consolidated  acreage , which  he  had 
to  fence,  ditch,  etc.  Or  again,  the  termsapulies  to  a 
large  district, as  very  frequently  the  commons, that  was  fenced 
in  for  the  wealthy  landowner’s  sheep-fens.  ) 

An  enclosure  began  with  a private  bill  introduced  into 

Parliament often  by  a wealthy  landlord.  This  bill, showing 

the  advantages  of  enclosing, was  sent  to  a committee , whose 
leader  or  chairman  m£ght  have  been  the  selfsame  landlord  who 
had  prooosed  the  bill.  After  being  co  sidered  and  passed 


* 


. t'"  | fij  » ■ 


-2- 


uron  by  the  house  of  lords, which  was  in  turn  composed  of 
wealthy  landowners  only, the  bill  was  put  into  the  hands  of 
a commission  to  be  executed.  Such  a commission, perhaps  headed 
by  the  nobleman  wanting  the  enclosure , descended  upon  the  dis- 
trict and  distributed  the  land  according  to  their  wishes. 

Enelosures  no  doubt  increased  the  national  wealth 
immensely  in  the  long  run.  Of  course, no  modern  system  of 
farming  could  survive  in  which  an  acre  was  dawiddd  into  ten 
or  more  strips  each  with  a different  crop  and  different 
owner.  And  modern  methods  were  just  then  being  introduced 
into  England, and  were  finding  an  obstacle  in  the  old  system 
that  was  almost  identical  with  the  Anglo-Saxon  system  of 
a thousand  years  earlier.  But  the  change  was  too  rapid  and 
altered  the  character  of  the  national  life  of  England  to 
such  a degree  that  it  wrought  untold  hardships  for  more 
than  half  a century.  The  people  of  the  villages  were  robbed 
of  the  barest  means  of  making  a living.  Just  as  today  the 
small  manufacture  hag  no  chance  against  the  big  one  in  his 
line, so  then  the  small  landowner  could  not  compete  against 
the  wealthy  ones, especially  since  new  and  expensive  machin- 
ery and  fertilizers  were  becoming  more  and  more  essential. 

The  wealthy  landowners  improved  their  estates  so  that  they 
might  raise  the  rent  and  make  a profit  that  could  be  com- 
pared to  the  profit  made  by  the  fast-rising  merchant  aris- 
tocracy. The  rent  on  these  improved  farms  was  so  high  that 
the  small  farmer  had  to  give  up  farming  altogether.  The 
commons  were  enclosed  and  in  a majority  of  the  cases  want  to 


, 

.*  Hp|  <»'i  » i 1 » - '4-''  *flj  ij|B;it IgM  ||.J 


-3- 

the  wealthy  landowners  who  raised  a better  grade  of  sheep 
with  heavier  wool  on  the  pasturage  thus  afforded:  but  the 

small  farmer  and  in  fact  all  the  rest  of  the  agricultural 
population  did  not  have  a place  to  graze  a coy;.  The  small 
sum  of  money  given  them  for  the  loss  of  their  rights  in  graz- 
ing stock  on  the  commons  and  gathering  wood  from  the  waste, 
was  soon  spent  for  the  bare  necessities  of  living;  and  when 
this  was  spent,  the  economic  independence  of  the  laboring 
population  was  gone. 

The  enclosures  were  thus  fatal  to  three  classes  of  the 
rural  population:  the  small  farmer, who  had  at  most  thirty 
acres;  the  cotter  or  cottager, who  had  perhaps  five:  and  the 
laborer  who  had  less  than  that  or  none.  The  process  of 
enclosing  their  allottments  after  the  consolidation  mentioned, 
was  so  expensive  that  it  could  not  be  borne  except  by  a man 
with  some  capital  to  start  on.  The  man  who  was  called  upon  by 
the  enclosing  committee  to  promp^y  ditch  and  fence  his 
little  land,  and  who  could  not  do  so,  was  compelled  to  sell 
at  v;hatever  price  he  could  get.  The  small  farmer  of  thirty 
acres  might  possibly  have  borne  this  expense  b lithe  received 
no  adequate  recompense  for  his  rights  of  common; and  such 
advantages  as  he  received  from  the  consolidation  of  his 
thirty  acres  could  not  make  amends  for  the  loss  of  common 
rights.  For  , without  pasture  he  could  not  keep  sheep,*  v/ith 
no  sheep  he  could  not  fertilize  his  "and;  without  fertilizer 
the  land  soon  wore  out.  The  small  farmer  then  could  emigrate 
to  America,  or  go  to  an  industrial  town, or  become  a day 
laborer.  Thus  it  7/as  that  a smal  1 , independent  farmer  in  a 


■ 


-4- 

few  years  became  a laborer  and  in  another  few  years  was 
perhaps  thrown  upon  parish  relief.  Th 

^he  effect  upon  the  cottager  can  best  be  described  by 
saying  that  before  the  enclosures  he  was  a laborer  with 
land;  and  after  the  enclosure  he  was  a laborer  without  land. 

For  the  inability  to  fence  and  ditch  his  holdings  operated 
even  more  sternly  in  his  cs.se  than  in  that  of  the  small  farmer. 
A great  part  of  the  land , moreover , that  was  enclosed  was  turned 
to  pasture  by  the  large  owners, and  the  laborers  formerly 
employed  on  it  were  dischanged.  Where  fifteen  men  farmed, 
one  man<-  herded.  -‘-he  cottager  and  the  laborer  were  thus  made 
dependent  on  wages  alone  at  a time  when  competition  for  work 
was  beating  wages  down  to  a starvation  level.  The  squatter 
was  a poor  alien  on  the  land,  settled  on  the  waste, built 

a cottage, and  got  together  a few  geese ,pe rhaps  a cow  and 
a horse;  and  began  to  cultivate  the  land.  With  the  coming  of 
the  enclosure  he  lost  his  common  right;  and  thus  unrooted  he 
could  start  on  a wandering  journey  of  beggary. 

Perhaps  we  can  get  an  idea  of  the  misery  and  universal 
wretchedness  of  the  rural  population  if  we  quote  a few  words 
from  an  eye-witness , Gobbett , in  his  PARISH  REGISTER: 

rr  Their  dwellings  are  little  better  than  pig-beds;  and 
the  looks  would  indicate  that  their  food  in  not  nearly  the 
equal  of  that  of  a pig.  The  wretched  hovels  are  stuck  upon 
little  plots  of  ground  by  the  road-side  where  the  space  was 

wider  than  the  road  demanded.  Yesterday  morning  was 

a sharj)  frost;  and  this  had  set  the  poor  creatures  digging  up 
their  little  plots  of  potatoes.  In  my  whole  life  I never  saw 


. . 


■ 


■ 


-o~ 

such  wretchedness , not  even  among  the  plantation  negroes.  ,T 
The  laborer, to  keep  from  starving , often  turned  to 
ooaching  and  petty  thievery.  But  the  noblemen  had  their^ 
parks  enclosed  against  trespassers.  Spring-guns  were  set  up 
on  the  estates.  Poaching  offenses  were  made  punishable  by 
death, or  at  the  least  by  transportation  to  Australia.  The 
poor  might  seek  charity  from  the  parish  pauper  work-house. 

Or  they  might  starve. 

Many  reforms  to  better  these  conditions  were  proposed, 

mainly  because  the  English  Aristocracy  had  just  seen 

a 

in  a sister  nation  what  desperate  proletariat  could  do  if 
pushed  to  extremes  of  misery.  The  reform  that  was  adopted 
goes  under  the  name  of  The  Speenhamland  System.  In  brief, 
it  provided  that  if  a laborer  did  not  receive  a certain 
minimum  wage  ( which  was  set  on  a sliding  scale  to  corres- 
pond to  the  price  of  wheat  ),  he  was  to  be  given  from  the 
parish  relief  to  make  up  the  set  amount.  Nothing  was  done  to 
force  the  employer  to  pay  this  minimum  wage;  and  since  he 
could  depend  upon  the  parish  having  to  pay  it,  he  seldom 
did  give  the  laborer  a living  wage.  The  result  was  that 
those  who  were  not  already  paupers  speedily  became  so.  The 
scheme  was  the  culmination  of  a series  of  strokes  that 
pauperized  an  already  impoverished  nation. 

The  laborer  was  separated  from  the  3 and  bp  the  enclosures 
in  a greater  degree  than  can  be  readily  realized.  Before  the 
industrial  and  agrarian  revolutions,  Arthur  -'oung  estimated 
that  out  of  a population  of  8, 500, 000, the  agricultural  portion 
was  2, 800, 000, or  one-fourth  of  the  total  number.  In  the 


■ 


' 


-6- 


second  decade  of  the  nineteenth  century  the  total  number 
engaged  of  farms  and  dairies  was  1,300,000:  that  is 
not  half  the  actual  number  engaged  in  the  century  before; 
while  the  proportion  had  sunk  from  one  person  in  four  to 
one  in  twenty-five. 

The  main  features  of  this  land  change  were;  the 
open  field  system  was  abolished;  the  plow  and  grazing 
lands  were  enclosed;  small  farms  were  consolidated  into 
larger  ones;  new  methods  and  machinery  were  introduced; 
and  the  laborer  was  separated  from  the  land.  It  was  in 
tnis  change  of  rural  conditions  that  the  poet  John  Clare 

was  born  and  reared in  Northamptonshire,  which  was 

a purely  agricultural  district  and  felt  the  misery  and 
universal  pauperization  that  went  with  the  agrarian 
revolution. 


. - i 


-7- 

PART  11 

The  Life  Of  John  Clare  (.1793-1864) 

John  Glare  was  born  in  the  little  village  of  Helpstone 
in  Northamptonshire , in  1793.  His  family,  one  of  the  poor- 
est in  the  village,  was  enrolled  in  the  parish  pauper  list. 
When  the  poet  7/as  seven,  his  father  by  the  greatest  priva- 
tions sent  him  to  a certain  rr  Lame-School  " ; but  the 
money  could  not  be  ppared  to  keep  him  there  very  long, and 
^ohn  was  hired  out  to  tend  the  geese  and  sheep  on  the  com- 
mons. He  saved  up  his  few  pennies  during  the  next  two  or 
three  years; and  again,at  the  age  of  ten, went  to  school  for 
a few  months.  This  was  all  the  formal  education  that  the 
poet  received;  for  at  twelve  he  was  already  working  regu- 
larly in  the  fields.  With  hardly  strength  enough  for  the 
slightest  labor,  so  small  and  weak-armed  that  his  father 
made  him  a special  flail  to  thresh  ?/ith,he  must  have  endured 
sufferings  of  body  and  spirit  those  years. 

When  he  was  thirteen, the  reading  of  Thomson* s 
r*  Seasons  rr  led  him  to  believe  that  he  was  a poet  himself. 

He  had  already  showed  a poetic  temperament:  as  a very  young 

child  he  Hcl  set  out  one  day  to  walk  towards  the  horizon, 

A 

that  he  might  touch  it.  As  he  grew  older  he  was  unusually 
credulous  of  supernatural  things , fancying  all  kinds  of 
ghosts  and  goblins  in  the  swamps  ready  to  attack  him.  -hen, 
when  he  read  the  rr  Seasons  ,T,he  scribbled  down  an  a piece 
of  paper  the  lines  which  were  afterwards  known  as  " The 


-8- 

Morning  Walk.  rr  He  wrot4  other  verses  on  scraps  of  paper 
which  he  would  stuff  into  a hole  in  the  wall.  When  his  mother 
would  find  them,  she  used  them  for  lighting  the  fires.  The 
poet  showed  some  of  his  verses  to  a Mr.  Thomas  rorter 
living  near  Helpst one , and  was  advised  to  learn  grammar.  The 
attempt  to  do  this  kept  him  from  writing  any  more  poems 
for  several  years. 

During  these  years, Clare  engaged  in  various  forms 
of  day  labor  to  suoport  himself.  Por  a time  he  worked  among 
the  gardeners  in  Burghley  Park ,v/hc9Phe  acquired  the  habit 
of  carousing  and  drinking.  He  ran  away  for  a fewr  months 
but  after  wandering  about,  went  back  home  to  work  on  a 
farm,  ^ater  he  found  work  at  a lime -kiln;  where  , though 
the  work  was  hard,  he  found  time  to  write  half  a dozen  poems 
ih  the  course  of  a day.  It  was  at  this  time,  in  1817,  that 
he  met  Martha  Turner,  the  rT  ^atty  n of  some  of  his  poems  ,-mm 
whom  he  married  after  many  hesitations  and  differences. 

Between  the  meeting  with  atty  and  his  marriage, 
three  years  later,  Clare  became  almost  a beggar,and  put 
down  his  name,  as  his  father  did,  on  the  pauper  list, 
claiming  relief  from  the  parish.  The  money  he  had  saved 
when  he  worked  at  the  lime-kiln  had  been  spent  on  the 
printing  of  a hundred  copies  of  a prospectus,  which  he 
called:  n Proposals  for  Publishing  by  Subscriptions  a 
Collection  of  Original  Trifles  on  Miscellaneous  Subjects, 
Religious  and  Moral, in  Verse, by  John  Clare  of  Helpstone.  rT 
He  intended  to  raise  money  on  this  subscription  and  get 
married.  As  the  title  might  indicate , only  seven  subscribers 


I 1 1-  I 


-9- 

coulcL  be  found;  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  poems  would  never 
be  printed.  But  by  good  luck  they  fell  into  the  hands  of 
a Stamford  bookseller  called  Drury, who  sent  them  to  London 
to  his  relative,  Mr.  Taylor, a prominent  printer.  Taylor 
saw  the  value  of  the  poems, and  announced  them  in  the  first 
issue  of  his  new  rr  London  Magazine  " . On  January  16,1320, 
he  published  the  rr  Poems  Descriptive  of  Rural  ^ife,  and 
Scenery, by  John  Glare, a Northamptonshire  Peasant.  rT  Ee 
attached  an  introduction  that  was  almost  an  appeal  to 
charity . 

■‘■he  success  of  the  poems  was  immediate.  Praise  came 
from  the  Quarterly  Review  that  had  attacked  Aeats.  Madame 
Vestris  recited  some  of  the  poems  at  Govent  Gardens; 

Rossini  set  one  of  them  to  music.  The  poet  was  taken  to 
London  under  the  guidance  of  his  editor, Mr.  Tailor, who  took 
him  to  theatres  and  dinner  parties.  There , because  of  his 
naive  rusticity  in  dress , manner , and  speech,  he  became  as 
popular  as  his  rural  verses.  At  his  first  visit, he  gained 
the  friendship  of  two  life-long  friends, Lord  Radstock  and 
Mrs.  Emmerson.  Subscriptions  were  raised;  the  money  was 
invested  for  him;  and  Glare  found  himself  with  an  income 
of  forty-five  pounds  a year. 

§n  that  amount  the  poet  thought  he  could  Jive 
without  working.  In  the  day  he  would  wander  about  the  com- 
mons writing  poems;  at  night  he  sat  in  the  inn-parlors 
receiving  his  admirers.  In  1821  he  brought  out  another 
book,  n The  Village  Minstrel.  ,T  Gilchrist  and  Taylor 


- 


-10- 

had  fought  the  battles  of  the  first  volume;  hut  Gilchrist 
at  this  time  was  busily  engaged  in  a literary  battle  be- 
tween the  editors  of  Pope  and  Byron  and  the  Quarterly 
Review.  Phis  second  volume  of  Glare's  was  left  neglected. 
The  next  year  he  made  a second  trip  to  London.  The  poet 
stayed  there  long  enough  to  get  acquainted  with  the  taverns 
and  gay  theatres, and  to  fall  in  love  with  an  actress  and 
^young  wife  of  a friend.  He  met  Gifford  and  Murray, and 
supped  with  Lamb. 

The  freedom  and  gaity  of  London  had  done  Glare  no 
good  when  he  came  back  to  Eelpstone;  the  trip  had  merely 
made  him  discontented  and  lonely.  nowever,  he  wrote  verses 
copiously  and  tried  to  make  better  bargains  in  selling 
them.  He  was  not  successful  at  this,  and  the  little  money 
he  had  soon  dwindled  away.  Stinting  himself  in  food  that 
his  ever  increasing  family  and  old  parents  might  have 
enough  to  eat,  he  became  seriously  ill.  £ie  went  to  London 
again,  and  receiving  medical  aid,  became  better  rapidly. 

On  this  visit,  he  met  all  the  /leading  literary 
men  as  they  gathered  for  dinner  parties  at  the  home  of  the 
editor , Taylor.  Mr.  Martin , Glare ' s biographer , gives  the 
poet's  naive  reaction  to  the  ,T  Lions  rT  on  the  times.  Like 
a child  he  sat  spell-bound  listening  to  their  talk, while 
he  felt  keenly  h disappointment  that  they  were  not  as  he 
had  imagined  them  in  his  day-dreams.  At  such  parties  he 
met  Hazlitt,  Reynol ds , Coleridge ,£anb , ^ary,  the  translator 
of  Dante,  and  many  others  notables. 


■ 


-11- 

As  soon  as  he  was  strong  enough  and.  returned  to 
Helpstone.he  got  a job  digging  ditches  and  draining  marshes; 
but  he  was  too  p^psrr  to  do  the  work.  °ickness , poverty , cares , 
came  faster  and  faster.  His  thought's  naturally  came  to 
him  in  verse;  but  the  circumstances  of  his  life  prevented 
him  from  developing  to  the  extent  he  otherwise  might. 
Sometimes  his  poverty  and  his  cares , some times  drink, 
sometimes  starvation,  prevented  him  from  writing  at  all. 

Out  under  the  ooen  sky  he  felt  free.  " There  was  a fav- 
orite spot  where  he  delighted  to  sit,  and  where  the  hallowed 
vein  of  poetry  flowed  freely.  This  spot  was  the  hollow  oak 
on  the  border  of  Helpstone  heath, called  Jjea  Close  Oak.  Hew 
human  beings  ever  came  to  this  place; inside  this  oak  the 
poet  used  to  sit  for  hours  in  silent  meditations , forgetting 
everything  at  out  him  and  unmindful  of  the  waning  day  and 
the  mantle  of  darkness  falling  over  the  earth,  " ( Martin's 

TrLife  of  John  Clare.") 

A few  years  of  prosperity  relieved  the  ever- oppressed , 
poverty-cramped  life  of  the  poet,  during  these  few  years 
there  was  scarcely  a wish  left  unfulfilled , save  the  one  of 
wanting  a strip  of  arth  and  to  be  kind:  of  his  own  land.  A 
poor  crop  and  more  sickness  brough  him  back  into  the  dire 
want  of  his  fo  m r years,  fhe  Earl  Fitzwilliam  gave  him 
a few  acres  of  land  and  a small  cottage;  but  the  change 
from  the  spot  where  he  had  always  lived  was  more  than  he 

could  bear, and  signs  of  approaching  insanity  became  more 


-12- 

no  tic  e able . ^he  Earl  proposed  to  send  him  to  an  asylum, since 
it  was  decided  that  the  poet  had  lost  his  mind.  Mr.  Taylor 
with  some  interested  friends  arranged  to  send  him  to  a 
private  asylum  managed  by  a Dr.  Allen, at  ^igh  Bridge. 
Homesickness  for  his  wife  and  children  made  him  run  away, 
after  he  had  been  at  Xiigh  Bridge  for  four  years,  treated 
with  the  utmost  kindness.  His  experiences  on  this  journey, 
as  described  afterwards  in  a letter,  were  of  the  most  pathetic 
kind.  For  ninety  hours  he  had  nothing  to  eat, save  a few 
tobacco  crumbs  he  had  found  in  his  pocket  and  the  green 
grass  by  the  roadside,  ^ying  on  the  road  from  hunger,  with 
bruised  and  bleeding  feet,  he  was  picked  up  on  the  road- 
side by  his  wife.  Two  county  physicians  came  and  signed 
the  certificate  that  was  to  shut  him  up  in  the  Northamp- 
tonshire Insane  Asylum  for  the  remaining  twenty-two  years 
of  his  life. 

At  this  place  Glare  was  treated  with  the  utmost 
respect.  The  officials  placed  him  in  a ward  with  the 
private  patients , paying  honor  to  him  as  well  as  to  them- 
selves by  recognizing  the  poet  in  the  pauper.  In  a recess 
in  one  of  the  big  windows, he  s ^ent  the  greater  part  of 
the  years , writing  and  think  ng.  When  he  became  very  weak 
and  infirm, he  was  wheeJed  about  in  the  gardens,  ^n  Friday 
^ay  20,1864  he  died.  Ahe  superintendent  of  the  asylum 
wrote  to  the  Earl  FitzwilJiam  for  the  small  sum  necessary 
to  carry  out  the  wish  of  the  poet  that  he  be  buried  in 
his  native  soil.  The  Earl  refused;  but  some  kind  friends 
raised  the  sum.  Glare  now  lies  under  a broad  sycamore  tree 


-13- 


in  the  little  cemetery  of  Eelpstone 
but  the  green  grass  and  the  eternal 


" with  nothing  above 
vault  of  heaven.  ,T 


-14- 

PART  III 

Country  Life  in  the  Poetry 
of 

John  Clare 

Altho  John  Clare  was  a peasant  suffering  from  pov- 
erty all  his  life,  his  poetry  was  not  written  with  a pro- 
pagandist ic  hut  with  an  artistic  purpose,  fhe  literature  of 
the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries  dealing  with  country 
life  was  either  artistic  or  social  in  purpose.  Ebenezer 
Elliott t living  at  the  same  time  as  Clare,  wrote  poems  with 

a social  purpose for  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  ^aws,and  the 

lowering  of  the  import  duties  on  raw  material.  Although 
Elliott  was  actually  benefitted  by  the  Corn  ^aws,  yet  he 
wrote  against  them  most  bitterly.  John  Clare f on  the  other 
hand , impoverished  all  his  life  by  the  Corn  -^aws  and  other 
similar  measures .wrote  nothing  dealing  with  a change  in  the 
agricultural  situation.  Both  writers  are  to  be  praised  for 
their  honesty, for  their  ability  to  detach  themselves  from 
immediate  personal  interests,  and  for  their  fidelity  to 
their  artistic  and  social  purposes. 

The  poems  of  Clare  may  be  divided  into  three  classes: 
the  Love  Poems, the  Hature  Poems, and  the  Poems  dealing  with 
social  life.  In  all  the  poet’s  writings  he  is  dominated  by 
an  artistic  purpose  rather  than  by  a desire  to  reform  or 


-15- 


change  conditions.  We  should  expect  this  to  he  so  in  the 

Love  Poems, which  form  the  hulk  of  his  work.  Yet,  we  may  learn 

something  of  the  country  life  from  these  poems, if  we  take 

them, written  by  a peasant  as  they  are, to  be  typical  of  the 

sentiments  felt  by  all  the  rural  laborers.  In  spite  of 

the  material  hardships  and  privations,  there  is  a simplicity 

and  sweetness  in  the  peasant's  love, an  inner  life  of  tender 

emotions  and  warmth  of  feel ing> that  is  in  stark  contrast 

with  external  hardships.  Clare,  in  the  love  poems , expresses 

these  sentiments  of  the  peasant.  The  poem  best  illustrating 

the  simple  love  is  one  entitled,  " My  Love,  thou  art  a 

Nosegay  Sweet.  ’’ 

And  When, my  Nosegay, thou  shalt  die. 

And  heaven’s  flower  shall  prove  thee; 

My  hopes  shall  follw  to  the  sky. 

And  everlasting  love  thee. 

The  ballad  entitled  ,f  William  and  Mary,  ” in  which  two 
rural  swains  are  talking  of  their  sweethearts , shews  an  ele- 
vated emotion  and  respect  for  the  objects  of  their  love, that 
is  deep  felt  and  natural. 

I fit  rive  to  please  her  morning, noon,  and  night. 

Poro=#  her  in  harvest  when  the  nuts  are  brown, 

I take  my  crook  to  pull  the  branches  down. 

The  garland  and  the  wreath  for  her  1 bind 
Compos’d  of  all  the  fairest  flowers  I find. 

And  finally, a few  lines  sh&wing  the  simplicity  of  the  pea- 
sant’s imagery  and  comparisons. 


Clare’s  Poems:  Ed.  Gale, pp. 36. 


. 

* 


■ 


-16- 

1 Tis  Spring, my  Love, ’tis  Soring, 

And  the  birds  begin  to  sing; 

If  it  were  winter, left  alone  with  you, 

^our  bonny  form  and  face, 
l?ould  make  a Bummer  place, 

And  be  the  fairest  flower  that  ever  grew. 

Besides  the  sweet  and  simple  love-life  of  the  peasants, 
the  poet  expresses  their  thoughts  about  the  beauties  of 
nature.  Nature  must  have  afforded  delights  that  did  much  to 
make  up  for  the  poverty  of  the  peasant’s  lack  of  material 
comfort.  Glare  expresses  these  delights  of  the  inarticulate 
peasants  when  he  describes  their  sent iment s , as  well  as  the 
beauties  of  their  native  scenes. 

0 Native  endearments  i I wou'd  not  forsake  thee, 

1 would  not  forsake  thee  for  sweetest  of  scenes. 


Your  skies  may  be  gloomy,and  misty  your  mornings. 

Your  flat  swampy  vallies  unwholesome  may  be; 

Still,  refuse  of  nature  .without  her  adomings. 

Thou  art  dear  as  this  heart  in  my  bosom  to  me. 

The  poet  finds  beaut?/  in  the  common,  ordinary  .natural  ob- 
jects of  the  low  fen  and  the  marshy  country  of  his  birth. 

But  in  these  scenes  he  saw  only  the  le  s gloomy  and  oppres- 
sive aspects.  The  commons  may  have  been  brown  and  barren, but 
Glare  remembers  them  when  they  were  green  and  dotted  with 
wild  flowers.  He  wrote  with  fancy, feeling,  and  reflection 
atoout  these  simple  objects  of  nature,  ^n  his  fancy  he  lived 
the  life  of  insects,  which  to  many  are  simp]y  annoyances ,but 
which  to  him  are  fairies, with  colored  hoods  and  burnished 
wings , di sguised  in  a sort  of  splendid  masquerade , rocked  to 

sleep  in  the  smooth  velvet  of  the  hedge-rose , or  slumbering 
like  princes  in  the  heath’s  purple  hood, secure  from  rain, 


-17- 

from  dropping  dews, in  their  beds  and  painted  wails.  A jolly 
and  royal  life  this  seems .this  life  of  a band  of  play-fel- 
lows mocking  the  sunshine  with  their  glittering  wings, or 
drinking  golden  wine  and  metheglin  from  the  cup  of  the 

£ lower . In  a ref'ective  mood, he  sees  into  the  eternal 
mysteries  of  nature .beneath  the  forms  and  symbols  of  out- 
ward appearances.  Cowslips  of  golden  blooms  will  come  and  go 
as  fresh  two  thousand  years  from  no?/  as  they  are  today. 
Brooks,  bees,  birds,  from  age  to  age,  these  will  sing  when 
^all  the  ambitious  things  of  earth  have  passed  away. 

There  are  two  characteristics  in  the  nature  poems  of 
Clare:  truth  in  the  painting  of  the  objects, and  tenderness 
in  his  sentiments  toward  them.  The  poet  is  both  truthful  and 
tender  when  he  paints  a bird's  nest, a nest  often  seen  but 
never  disturbed.  The  nest  of  the  pettichaps , close  to  the 
rut-galled  Tjapon-road , so  snugly  contrived , although  without 
a clump  of  grass  to  keep  it  warm  or  a shielding  thistle 
spreading  its  spear  in  protection, is  ouilt  like  an  oven... 

Scarcely  admitting  two  fingers  in. 

Hard  to  discern  the  bird  s snug  entrance  win: 

’ Tis  lined  with  feathers  warm  as  silken  stole, 

Softer  than  seats  of  down  for  painless  ease. 

And  jfull  of  eggs,  scarce  bigger  e’en  than  peas; 
k-ere  s one  that’s  del  icate  .with  spots  so  small 
As  ddst.and  of  a faint  and  pinky  rdd; 

Well,  let  them  be, and  Safety  guard  them  well 

A green  grasshopper’s  jump  might  break  the  shell. 

The  other  objects  of  nature  that  delighted  the  peasants, 

and  were  poetised  by  Clare  were  ants, clever  blossoms, and 

perhaps  an  early  butterfly.  Again,  we  find  an  intimacy  with 

the  furry  animals  of  the  commons. — 


♦ 


-18- 


And  the  little  clurabling  mouse 
Gnarls  the  dead  leaves  for  her  house. 

No  other  poet  has  such  a collection  of  insects  and  animals. 

The  little  gay'imoth.  lovely  to  view 
A- dancing  with  lily-white  wings  in  the  dew; 

He  whisked  o’er  the  water-edge  flirt  :.ng  and  airy 
And  perched  on  the  down-headed  grass  like  a fairy. 
And  there  came  the  snad#  from  shell  peeping  out, 

As  cautious  and  fearful  as  thieves  in  the  rout. 

’■‘■he  sly  jumping  frog,  too, had  ventured  to  ramp, 

And  the  glow-worm  had  just  ’gun  to  light  up  his 

lamp . 

Thus  we  can  get  an  idea  of  the  country  life  from  the 
love  poems, which  showed  the  tender  emotional  love-life  of 
the  laborer, in  spite  of  his  mental  poverty  and  material 
hardships.  Likewise,  in  the  nature  poems,  the  poet  shows  the 
beatifies  of  nature  in  the  country,  -‘-he  peasant  delighted  in 
these  beauties;  he  is  rich  in  poetic  sentiments  and  intimate 

observations,  though  he  is  poor if  we  judge  poverty  to 

be  a lack  of  food  and  clothing.  1f  the  Poet  had  any  resent- 
ment of  the  social  and  economic  situation,  we  should  expect 
to  find  it  in  the  poems  dealing  with  Social  Life. 

CftjbbeSs  lines  in  the  ’ Village  ”,that  describe  a 

boy  fainting  in  the  fields  from  exhaustion,  are  memorable, 
might  have 

Such  lineSy\come  aptly  from  Glare, who  as  a laborer , fainted 

' • 

from  exhaustion  and  hunger,  and  often  went  without  food. 

These  lines  of  Crabbe’s  tire  exactly  descriptive  of  the 

miseries  of  the  poor, as  experienced  by  Clare  himself. 

He  strives  to  Ijoin  his  fellows  in  the  field, 

Till  long-contending  nature  droops  at  last. 

Declining  health  rejects  the  poor  repast. 

Eis  cheerless  spouse  the  coming  i anger  sees, 

And  mutual  murmurs  urge  the  slow  disease. 


. 


-19- 


Eowever  we  never  find  a trace  of  bitterness  in  the  poems 

riff  social  life  written  by  Glare.  Instead, he  describes  the 

hay-making  time  in  this  manner: 

And  meadows,  they  are  mad  with  noise 
Of  laughing  maids  and  shouting  boys, 

Making  up  the  withering  hay 

With  merry  hearts  as  light  as  play. 

All  his  life  the  poet  longed  for  a spot  of  ground  of 
his  own;  but  enclosures  made  this  an  impossibility.  Yet, 
when  Clare  wrote  about  enclosures,  it  is  not  about  a personal 
wrong  or  injustice  that  he  speaks;  but  about  the  loss  of 
beauty  or  of  something  dear  to  his  heart  that  had  been, but 
now  was  gone. 

Whenever  I must  along  the  Plain, 

And  mark  where  once  they  grew, 

Remembrance  waked  her  busy  train. 

And  brings  past  scenes  to  view. 


The  green’s  gone , too — ah, lovely  scene  l 

No  more  the  kingcup  gay 

Shall  shine  in  yellow  o’er  the  green. 

And  shed  its  golden  ray; 

No  more  the  he^rdsman's  early  call 
Shall  bring  the  cows  to  feed; 

No  more  the  milk-maid’s  evening  brawl 
In  ” Come  Mull  ” tones  succeed. 

Both  milk-maid Ts  shouts  and  herdsman’s  call 
Have  vanished  from  the  green; 

The  kingcup’s  yellow, shade  and  all. 

Shall  never  more  be  seen; 

But  the  thick-cultur  & tribe  that  grow 
Will  so  efface  the  scene. 

That  aftertime  willfhardly  know 
It  ever  was  a green. 


In  this  same  connection,  in  the  ,?  Village  Minstrel,  ” 
we  find  these  lines  lamenting  the  absence  of  old  scenes 
and  objects  of  beauty  that  are  gone. 


~20- 


There  once  were  springs, when  daisies'  silver  studs 
Like  sheets  _of  sncw  on  every  pasture  spread; 

There  once  w»°sumners  where  the  crow-flower  buds 
Like  golden  sunbeams  that  sheltered  Lubin's  head; 
There  fallen  trees  the  naked  moors  bewail, 

And  scarce  a bush  is  left  to  the  tell  the  mournful 

tale . 


Although  the  poet  never  wrote  to  reform  agricui tural 

conditions,  he  is  often  realistic.  He  even  denounces  them 

occasionally,  but  his  prevailing  tone  is  lamentation for 

the  passing  of  the  meadow-blooms  and  pasture-flowers 

for  the  trimmed  hedge-fences  and  well-kept  lawns. 

Enclosures  came  and  every  path  was  stopt. 

Each  tyrant  fix'd  his  sign  where  paths  were  found 
To  hint  a trespass  who  might  cross  the  ground. 



But  who  can  tell  the  anguish  f his  mind, 

when  reformation's  formidable  foes 

With  civil  wars  'gainst  natures  peace  combined. 

And  desolation  Struck  her  deadly  blows 
As  curst  improvement  'gan  his  fields  inclose; 

Oh  greens,  and  fields, and  trees,  farewell  , farewell  .' 
His  he art -wrung  pains, his  unavailing  woes 
Ho  words  can  utter,  and  no  tongue  can  tell, 

"'hen  ploughs  destroy'd  the  green, when  groves  of 

willow  fell. 


Glare  sees  the  hut  of  clay  where  the  widow  lives; 
he  sees  the  poor  house,  and  feels  the  sting  that  must  be 
the  feeling  of  the  pauper  when  he  acceots  charity  from  the 

parish. 

Yon  parish-hut,  where  want  is  shov'd  to  die, 

He  never  views  them  but  his  tear  would  start; 

He  passed  not  by  the  doors  without  a sigh, 

And  felt  for  every  woe  of  work-house  misery, 
does 

Heithep^the  old  dame  at  the  parish  cottage, as  she  stands  in 
the  door  viewing  the  children  play, and  remembering  her  past 
youth neither  does  she  escape  the  poet's  eye. 


-21- 

She  turns  from  echoes  of  her  younger  years 
And  nips  the  portion  of  her  snuff  with  tears. 

The  poet  sees  another  old  woman  gathering  cress, to  make  a 

savory  salad  for  Luxury's  whim.  For  her  labor  the  old 

woman  will  get  a penny  and  a frown.  These  objects  of  nature 

were  just  as  natural  for  Glare  to  write  about, as  the 

brown  leaves  falling  in  the  autumn  instead  of  the  green 

leaves  coming  out  in  the  spring.  The  dismal  as  well  as  the 

sunny  days , the  joys  as  well  as  the  sorrows, he  shows  in  his 

Picture  of  the  country  life. 

However  realistic  the  poet  may  be,  he  is  dominated 

by  his  artistic  purpose;  and  foi  this  purpose  he  chose  scenes 

in  the  country  that  amused  or  aroused  tender  emotions  in 

him.  Ee  shunned , oerhaps  sub-consciously , the  things  that 

brought  up  feelings  of  there  being  injustice  in  the  world. 

Eis  peasants  never  lack  enough  food,  or  some  kind  of  a hut 

th&t  they  dall  home.  In  the  wood-cutter's  cabin  the  " care- 
ful wife  displays  her  frugal  hoard,  and  both  partake  in 

comfort  though  they  are  poor.  " His  country  laborer , work- 
ing on  some  enclosed  farm, is  a religious  man,  not  the  drunken, 
ignorant  peasant  who  spends  his  few  pennies  at  seme  tavern 
while  his  wife  and  children  starve.  This  laborer^Glare 

deoicts  goirg  out  with  his  children  on  a Sunday  afternoon. 

And  oft|he  takes  his  family  abroad 

On  short  excursions  o'er  the  fields  and  plain 

Making  each  object  on  the  road 

An  insect , spring  of  grass, or  ear  of  grain; 


-22- 

Endeavor  ing  thus  most  simply  to  maintain 

That  the  same  power  that  bids  the  mite  to  crawl 

That  browns  the  wheat-land  in  its  summer  stain, 

That  power  which  formed  the  simple  flower  withal, 
Formed  all  that  lives  and  grows  uoon  this  earthly 

ball. 

Clare  writes  that  his  purpose  is  not  to  lament  the  sor- 
rows but  to  show  the  joys;  and  we  may  take  the  dominant 
motive  of  the  poet  from  the  following  lines: 

But  useless  naming  what  distress  reveals, 

As  every  child  of  want  fee.ls  all  that  Lubin  feels. 

In  accordance  with  this  purpose,  in  the  rT  Village  Minstrel  ,r, 
his  longest  poem,  he  gives  us  a variegated  picture  of 
idyllic  country  life. 

In  the  Spring  the  country  hums  with  new  life.  On 
his  way  to  plow  the  field?,  the  peasant  feels  the  Spring- 
time in  the  air;  the  birds  sing  merrily  as  they  build  their 
nests;  the  blue-raeadow-daisy  peeps  farther  out  from  the 
grass;  while  the  white  lambs  grazing  on  the  green  commons 
look  like  the  last  remnants  of  the  winter's  snow.  The  milk- 
maid hums  a love  song  as  she  weaves  a garland  to  crown  the 
first  returning  cow.  The  housewives  gossip  about  the  hens 
and  the  geese;  w ile  on  Sunday  after  church  the  men  talk 
about  the  good  and  the  bad  signs  of  the  weather  for  the 
growing  grain. 

xhen  the  Spring  passes  into  summer, with  its  gentle , 
quiet  breezes.  A droning  insect  disturbed  by  a shrill  sound 
of  the  hay-maker Ts  scythe  ceases  for  a moment  his  course; 
a butterfly  rests  on  a stalk  and  is  swayed  to  and  fro  by  the 


breeze.  x'he  laborer , returning  home  in  the  long  summer 

twilight .remembers  the  ghost  stories  told  the  past  winter; 

and  as  the  night  comes  on  he  hears  the  swashing  sound  of 

the  drowned  Amy's  boots.  Mid-summer  is  ushered  in  with  its 

feast, and  every  heart  is  jumping  with  joy.  In  brand-new 

clothes  the  swain  goes  to  the  place  of  merriment , eager  to 

meet  his  sun-tanned  lass.  xhe  woodsman  and  the  thresher, 

children  and  kin  from  tne  neighboring  village, are  all 

present.  At  the  cotter's  house, Joe  tunes  his  fiddle  for  the 

dance.  When  the  fiddler  is  paid,  the  place  is  cleared  for  the 

merry  games  that  follow  the  feast. 

Great  sport  for  them  was  jumping  in  a sack. 

For  beaver  hat  bedecked  in  ribbons  blue; 

Soon  one  jumos  down  through  he's  broke  his  neck 
And  tries  to  risd  and  wondrous  sport  they  make. 

And  monstrous  fun  it  makes  to  hunt  the  pig; 

As  soapt  and  larded  through  the  crowd  he  flies. 


And  badger-baiting  here, and  fighting  cocks-- 
And  wrestlers  join  to  tug  each  other  down. 

At  night  the  men  go  to  the  ale-house  to  drink , smoke , and 
make  merry  until  the  money's  all  gone. 

Eesolv'd  to  keep  it  merry  while  it's  here 

As  toil  comes  every  day  and  feasts  but  once  a year. 

Autumn, with  corn  gleanings  and  merry  tales,  brings  its 

joy  and  feasts.  As  the  old  women  gather  the  last  of  the 

harvest, they  get  over -heated.  Stopping  to  catch  their 

breath, the  amuse  the  children  with  stories  or  Jack  the 

Giant-Killer , Cincerilla, and  Thumbs.  rthen  the  harvest  work 

is  done, another  feast,  known  as  the  Harvest-Supper .follows. 


- 24- 


Beer , smoking,  and  harmless  pranks  usher  out  the  season  of 
mists  and  mellow  fruitfulness. 

Autumn  breezes  turn  into  sharper  and  more  stinging 
blasts;  the  moors  and  leas  grow  bare;  the  trees  are  stript 
of  leaves;  winter  is  come.  Though  sombre  and  desolate, the 
peasant  delights  in  watching  the  storm, as  great  clouds 

it 

float  faster  and  faster  as  the  wind  drives  them  before  . 
The  woodsman, returning  home  on  a winter  night  with  a load 
of  fire-wood , looks  like  a moving  snow-bank,  "he  supper  is 
readme*  stewing  on  the  hook;  the  children, bright-eyed 
with  happiness , prattle  about  his  knees  to  welcome  him 
home.  After  supper  with  the  hearth  swept  cl ean, stories , songs , 
and  prayer  end  the  day. 

n And  thus  i/y  wedlock’s  joy  the  laborer  drowns 

his  care  a 


V, 


. 


-25- 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

1.  Cunningham, Wm.  "Growth  of  English  Industry  and  Commerce." 

3 vols.  Sd.  1907. 

Vpl.  1.  Early  and  Middle  Ages. 

Vol.2.  Mercantile  System 
Vol.3.  Laissez  Faire 

2.  Gibbens,H  de  B.  "Industrial  History  of  England. "ed.  1895. 

3.  Johnson , A. W.  "Disappearance  of  the  Small  Landowner." 

ed.  1901. 

4.  Hammond, J.H.  and  Barbara.  "The  English  Village"  ed.1914. 

5.  Martin,  Frederick,  "Life  of  John  Clare,"  ed.  1865. 

6.  Cherry, J.L.  "Life  and  Remains  of  John  Clare."  ed.  1872. 


7.  Clare,  John.  "Village  Minifctrel."  vol  l&ll.  ed.1822. 

8.  Symons .Arthur . " ^oerns  by  John  Clare."  ed.  1909. 

9.  Gale,  Norman,  " Poems  by  John  Clare."  ed.  1901. 


